A Knight Who Eternally Regresses-Chapter 420: Not an End, but a Beginning

"Follow your heart?"

If someone asked Jaxon whether he enjoyed killing people, he wouldn’t have an answer.

No matter how many times he thought about it, he couldn't tell if he found it enjoyable or not.

There were people in the guild who would go mad if they didn't see blood at least once a week, but Jaxon had never been one of them. However, honing his skills had always been fun. That, he was certain of.

"It’s not about stabbing a friend in the back—it’s about surviving, kid."

The Master's tone was always light, but his words were always true. That was what his father had meant.

Jaxon had simply interpreted it in his own way. That was what he had needed back then. He had to find something to throw into the fire of his revenge.

"Looking straight ahead doesn’t mean you should be shackled to the past, does it?"

The Master was right again.

His mother hadn’t wanted him to become someone bound by his lineage.

Jaxon had twisted that memory too, using it as fuel.

And he knew it.

"What I teach isn’t the art of murder."

"Then what is it?"

"That’s for you to figure out! Do I have to spoon-feed you everything?!"

It was a strange thing to say while teaching someone how to detect poison in their food.

The first time Jaxon met his Master, the man had asked:

"Are you coming? If so, I’ll teach you how to live."

Not how to survive—how to live.

Not an art of killing, just one way of living.

Jaxon had never let go of his killing intent. His aura had never wavered. Yet, he couldn’t stop his own mouth from moving.

"Can I stay?"

The words came straight from his heart, bypassing his mind entirely.

"If you can beat me, I’ll allow it."

Enkrid responded as he always did, in that steady, prepared manner of his.

"If it’s just one way to live..."

That wasn’t enough of a reason to keep living.

It was a new realization, one that struck him only after saying the words aloud.

Jaxon had never found anything to follow his heart for—other than revenge.

But now, he was sure of one thing.

Being by this man’s side was more enjoyable than killing him.

Rising through the ranks by honing his skills was enjoyable.

Watching his lover was enjoyable.

Then why not do it all?

He asked himself the question and already knew the answer. There was no need to dwell on it. It was obvious.

"Then I can stay."

Jaxon spoke.

Sunlight warmed his back. The summer sun intensified the heat within his body. A faint smile formed on his face as he stood in the shade.

That simple phrase—follow your heart—brought a refreshing sense of liberation. It severed the chains in his heart.

Jaxon had a technique that he only used when someone was watching or when he wasn’t allowed to kill his opponent.

"Why did I even follow that rule?"

Who had ordered him to? The Master hadn’t. It was just an unspoken rule passed down within the Geor Dagger guild.

A pointless tradition he had followed out of habit.

Enkrid wasn’t fooled by his opponent’s smile.

"Is he hiding something?"

Jaxon had grown stronger recently. And ever since he had gained Acker, he had become even more reckless.

He constantly challenged his squadmates to sparring matches, testing his limits.

And Jaxon was no exception.

Even when lost in thought, Enkrid would prod at him.

Of course, no one in the squad ever refused ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) Enkrid’s challenges.

This was no different.

Half of Enkrid’s challenge had been a joke, and the other half was a provocation.

Jaxon took the bait without hesitation.

Honestly, Enkrid hadn’t even cared about the part where Jaxon said he wanted to stay.

He was just craving a good fight since there was no one else available at the moment.

Jaxon’s presence seemed to swell, as if his body had grown larger.

Enkrid paid no mind.

"If even I don’t believe in myself, I’ll never win."

Never overestimate an opponent. That was the first rule of combat.

At the same time, never let your guard down. And always give it your all.

Easier said than done. These things couldn’t be understood without experience.

Enkrid placed his hand on his grip. He took his stance and committed Jaxon’s entire body to memory. He opened his senses, absorbing every detail.

Always give your best.

Enkrid did what he always did.

And today nearly repeated itself once again.

***

A burden on his heart?

Or maybe just the chains that had bound him until now?

Whatever it was, Jaxon ignored it and moved on, his steps lighter than before.

Especially as he thought back to his match with Enkrid just moments ago.

"He’s improved a lot."

A knight’s art was called Will.

Why couldn’t an assassin wield Will?

"If I leave you alone, you’ll become the best killer on the continent."

The Master hadn’t said that for no reason.

Jaxon had talent. The previous Master had seen it too.

Jaxon had just landed several strikes on Enkrid—techniques he hadn’t even used when fighting Count Molten.

His feet carried him outside the barracks.

Two sentries saluted him as he passed.

They seemed to know who he was.

He didn’t return the salute. He simply walked past them and strolled along the wall lined with trees.

A voice was waiting for him.

"Are you serious?"

It wasn’t the voice of a lover, but of a guildmate—a deputy Master speaking.

Jaxon knew she had been watching his fight with Enkrid.

"You showed something that should only be used against enemies."

She was unseen, but her voice carried clearly.

Jaxon sensed five more presences in the trees.

Six in total.

Three of them were older than him—assassins with years of experience.

One was a master of poison. Another specialized in dagger throwing. The third excelled in concealing presence.

They had once been his teachers.

Jaxon hadn’t only learned from the Master.

But he had long since surpassed them.

They wouldn’t be able to stop him.

If they attacked, they would die.

And his lover—the Master’s daughter—wasn’t foolish enough to make that mistake.

Jaxon was more skilled than anyone in both technique and judgment. He hadn’t inherited the Master’s title for nothing.

"...Why did you do it?"

His lover’s voice. She had been two years older than him when they were children.

"No reason."

Oddly enough, it was the same answer Enkrid had given him.

"I just followed my heart."

It hadn’t been intentional, but it was another similar answer.

"Was the Master’s title so trivial to you?"

Was she disappointed?

Maybe.

But Jaxon didn’t regret his choice.

There was no reason to.

Life wasn’t just about choosing between two paths.

"When did I ever say I’d give up the Master’s title?"

"...What?"

It was his lover—Jenetree—who spoke. She sounded utterly dumbfounded.

Jaxon responded calmly.

"I’m staying here. But that doesn’t mean I’m giving up Geor Dagger."

"Do you think that makes any sense?"

The poison master finally spoke, unable to hold back. His voice split in two, a feeble trick.

"And why wouldn’t it?"

Jaxon looked directly at the assassin’s hiding spot.

He would show respect as an elder. But if they attacked, they would die.

His eyes said as much.

"Don’t worry. No one is dying today. I’ll persuade you all—one by one."

Arrogant words.

Most would think it impossible to defy an entire guild and live.

But Jaxon remained unfazed.

He would do what needed to be done.

And that, more than anything, made him seem even crazier.

Jenetree stepped out of the shadows.

Jaxon had already known she was there, so he wasn’t surprised.

"You always do whatever you want."

"Do I?"

Jenetree stared at him for a moment.

Why had she fallen for this man again?

"You have to kill the previous Master?"

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Geor Dagger was the greatest assassination guild on the continent. Its Masters had always passed down their skills to their successors, only to be killed by them in the end.

Jaxon ignored that tradition.

"You're refusing to follow the rules?"

"That’s exactly what I intend to do."

During the succession struggle, three competing assassins died. Five elders perished. Counting their followers, more than thirty people had fallen.

Jaxon had done it all alone.

"Damn it, you lunatic. Just to save my life, you wiped out nearly a third of the guild's strength?"

His master—his mentor—Jenetree’s father, had scolded him like that before closing his eyes for the last time.

His body, worn down from years of hardship, had finally given out. The accumulated poison had taken its toll. But he had died smiling.

"Not everyone will take your side."

Jaxon stared directly into his lover’s orange eyes.

He reached out his hand toward her, and she took it.

Like her father before her, Jenetree was quick-witted—especially when it came to matters involving Jaxon or herself.

She had already prepared for the possibility that he might not return. She had gathered allies in advance.

Now, she was merely confirming what she already knew.

The elders who had followed her here were all on Jaxon’s side.

"Say it. I’ll convince them one by one."

Of course, his persuasion was in the style of Enkrid.

Which meant smashing heads until they listened.

Or kicking heads until they listened.

The way Enkrid had persuaded the city guards back in the capital would work just fine here.

And if they still refused to listen?

"Then you keep going until they do."

That was exactly what Enkrid would say. And in that regard, Jaxon knew he was much the same.

Aside from saving his father, he had never once done anything simply because he wanted to.

Even then, he sometimes questioned whether saving his father had been truly his own decision—or something done out of obligation.

That was how Jenetree saw Jaxon.

And deep down, she welcomed this change.

"Sometimes, you have to do what you want."

Before he died, the guild’s former Master had made a request.

To Jaxon, he had entrusted his daughter.

To his daughter, he had entrusted the young man he had cherished like a son.

"Even if that bastard ever leaves the guild, look after him."

Jenetree remembered those words.

Jaxon returned to the barracks.

On the way in, he saw Audin praying.

"Give me your blessing."

At those words, Audin opened his eyes. His hands were still clasped together.

What did he just hear?

It was shocking enough to interrupt his prayer.

Ragna, dozing off in his rocking chair, slowly opened one eye.

Jaxon passed by and muttered.

"Sleep some more."

Dunbakel narrowed his eyes.

Has he lost his mind?

That thought was clear in his expression, yet Jaxon remained indifferent.

"Go wash up."

Normally, Dunbakel would have ignored a comment like that. He never reacted to anything.

But this time, he got up immediately.

It felt like a warning. If he didn’t listen, he might wake up with a dagger across his throat.

Teresa saw this and began praying.

"Lord, drive out this evil spirit."

At some point, she had abandoned her old faith.

Now, her husky voice murmured prayers to the god of war instead.

As Jaxon walked past, he spotted Rem sharpening a small hand axe with a whetstone.

Rem saw Jaxon as well.

Their eyes met.

"Still not dead?"

"Nope. I think I’ll outlive you."

Jaxon asked, and Rem answered. Their words almost overlapped.

Like a pair of swans in perfect harmony.

The speed of their exchange, the way their words intertwined—it was hard to imagine a better match.

"Doppelgängers?"

Kraiss muttered as he watched.

Doppelgängers were monsters that imitated others.

Right now, Jaxon wasn’t acting like himself.

Even though the name of such a rare creature had been spoken—something usually found only near the Demon Realm—Jaxon didn’t react.

He simply continued toward his room.

***

Enkrid lay sprawled out, arms and legs stretched wide.

My judgment was off a few times.

He should have stabbed instead of slashed.

And now that he wielded Acker, he should have taken advantage of the blade’s unique properties.

I was lacking.

Every battle had something to learn from.

But when a member of Mad Platoon pulled off something new, there was even more to take away.

He had never said it out loud, but they were part of the reason he hadn’t joined a knightly order.

If I ever meet an actual knight, that might change.

Until then, training here was far more valuable.

The sunlight was warm.

It wouldn’t hurt to doze off.

Now he understood why Ragna always fell asleep in the sun.

For now, this was a moment to enjoy.

In just a few weeks—maybe even days—the pleasant warmth would turn into oppressive heat.

The season of fire—summer—was coming.

Winning or losing didn’t matter.

There was no time to dwell on such things.

Now that the civil war was over, would the kingdom finally know peace?

Would the need to wield a sword decrease?

No chance.

The new ruler was nothing like the previous one.

The former queen had sought stability.

But Crang?

Crang had different ambitions.

Before parting ways, he had shared some of them with Enkrid.

"The central continent is divided into three nations. Because of that, we’re weaker than the western, eastern, or southern regions. Especially since we’re constantly at war with Azpen."

"Are you planning to negotiate a peace treaty?"

If Azpen was forced to stop, Naurillia would have more time to build its strength.

That was obvious.

The resources lost in war, the soldiers who died—it was all a waste.

Crang smiled gently at that question.

He spoke as if he were plucking a flower from a garden.

"No. I’m going to conquer Azpen."

His dreams and ambitions were as bold as Enkrid’s.

Crang spoke with a charm that captivated those around him.

This time, his words were meant only for Enkrid.

But he poured his entire soul into them.

Just as Enkrid bet his life on his sword, Crang burned his soul to declare his vision.

"I will be the sole ruler of the central continent."

And even then, he had called it just one step in his dream.

Just like how Enkrid saw knighthood not as the end, but as the beginning.